Nay, that cannot be so neither. Yes, it is so, it is so:
it hath the worser sole. This shoe with the hole15 in it is my
mother, and this my father. A vengeance on’t16, there ’tis.
Now, sir, this staff17 is my sister, for, look you, she is as white as
a lily and as small as a wand.18 This hat is Nan, our maid. I am
the dog: no, the dog is himself, and I am the dog. O, the dog is
me, and I am myself. Ay, so, so. Now come I to my father.
Father, your21 blessing: now should not the shoe speak a word
for weeping. Now should I kiss my father: well, he weeps on.
Now come I to my mother: O, that she could speak now like a
wood24 woman! Well, I kiss her. Why, there ’tis; here’s my
mother’s breath up and down.25 Now come I to my sister;
mark26 the moan she makes. Now the dog all this while sheds
not a tear nor speaks a word: but see how I lay the dust27 with
my tears.
[Enter Pantino]
PANTINO Lance, away, away: aboard! Thy master is shipped,
and thou art to post30 after with oars. What’s the matter? Why
weep’st thou, man? Away, ass, you’ll lose31 the tide, if you
tarry any longer.
LANCE It is no matter if the tied33 were lost, for it is the
unkindest tied that ever any man tied.
PANTINO What’s the unkindest tide?
LANCE Why, he that’s tied here, Crab, my dog.
PANTINO Tut, man, I mean thou’lt lose the flood37, and in
losing the flood, lose thy voyage, and in losing thy voyage,
lose thy master, and in losing thy master, lose thy service,
Lance gestures for him to stop
and in losing thy service—Why dost thou stop
my mouth?
LANCE For fear thou shouldst lose42 thy tongue.
PANTINO Where should I lose my tongue?
LANCE In thy tale.44
PANTINO In thy tail!45
LANCE Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and
the service, and the tied! Why, man, if the river were dry, I am
able to fill it with my tears: if the wind were down, I could
drive the boat with my sighs.
PANTINO Come: come away, man. I was sent to call50 thee.
LANCE Sir, call me what thou dar’st.
PANTINO Wilt thou go?
LANCE Well, I will go.
Exeunt
running scene 7
Enter Valentine, Silvia, Turio [and] Speed
SILVIA Servant!
VALENTINE Mistress?
SPEED Master, Sir Turio frowns on you.
VALENTINE Ay, boy, it’s for love.
SPEED Not of you.
VALENTINE Of my mistress, then.
SPEED ’Twere good you knocked7 him.
[Exit]
SILVIA Servant, you are sad.
VALENTINE Indeed, madam, I seem so.
TURIO Seem you that10 you are not?
VALENTINE Haply I do.
TURIO So do counterfeits.12
VALENTINE So do you.
TURIO What seem I that I am not?
VALENTINE Wise.
TURIO What instance16 of the contrary?
VALENTINE Your folly.
TURIO And how quote18 you my folly?
VALENTINE I quote it in your jerkin.19
TURIO My jerkin is a doublet.20
VALENTINE Well, then, I’ll double your folly.
TURIO How?22
SILVIA What, angry, Sir Turio? Do you change colour?
VALENTINE Give him leave, madam, he is a kind of chameleon.
TURIO That hath more mind to feed on your blood than live25
in your air.
VALENTINE You have said, sir.
TURIO Ay, sir, and done too, for this time.28
VALENTINE I know it well, sir: you always end ere you begin.29
SILVIA A fine volley30 of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot
off.
VALENTINE ’Tis indeed, madam, we thank the giver.
SILVIA Who is that, servant?
VALENTINE Yourself, sweet lady, for you gave the fire.34 Sir Turio
borrows his wit from your ladyship’s looks, and spends what
he borrows kindly36 in your company.
TURIO Sir, if you spend37 word for word with me, I shall make
your wit bankrupt.
VALENTINE I know it well, sir: you have an exchequer39 of words
and, I think, no other treasure to give your followers, for it
appears by their bare liveries41 that they live by your bare
words.
SILVIA No more, gentlemen, no more: here comes my
father.
[Enter Duke]
DUKE Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset.45
Sir Valentine, your father is in good health:
What say you to a letter from your friends
Of much good news?
VALENTINE My lord, I will be thankful
To any happy messenger50 from thence.
DUKE Know ye Don Antonio, your countryman?51
VALENTINE Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman
To be of worth and worthy estimation,53
And not without desert54 so well reputed.
DUKE Hath he not a son?
VALENTINE Ay, my good lord, a son that well deserves
The honour and regard of such a father.
DUKE You know him well?
VALENTINE I knew him as myself, for from our infancy
We have conversed and spent our hours together,
And though myself have been an idle truant,
Omitting62 the sweet benefit of time
To clothe mine age63 with angel-like perfection,
Yet hath Sir Proteus — for that’s his name—
Made use and fair advantage of his days:
His years but young, but his experience old,
His head unmellowed but his judgement ripe,67
And in a word — for far behind his worth
Comes all the praises that I now bestow—
He is complete in feature70 and in mind,
With all good grace to grace a gentleman.
DUKE Beshrew me, sir, but if he make this good,72
He is as worthy for an empress’ love,
As meet to be an emperor’s counsellor.
Well, sir, this gentleman is come to me,
With commendation from great potentates,76
And here he means to spend his time awhile:
I think ’tis no unwelcome news to you.
VALENTINE Should I have wished a thing, it had been he.
DUKE Welcome him then according to his worth.
Silvia, I speak to you, and you, Sir Turio,
For Valentine, I need not cite82 him to it:
I will send him hither to you presently.
[Exit]
VALENTINE This is the gentleman I told your ladyship
Had come85 along with me, but that his mistress
Did hold his eyes locked in her crystal looks.86
SILVIA Belike that now she hath enfranchised them87
Upon some other pawn for fealty.
VALENTINE Nay, sure, I think she holds them prisoners still.
SILVIA Nay, then he should be blind, and being blind,
How could he see his way to seek out you?
VALENTINE Why, lady, Love hath twenty pair of eyes.
TURIO They say that Love hath not an eye at all.93
VALENTINE To see such lovers, Turio, as yourself:
Upon a homely object, Love can wink.95
SILVIA Have done, have done: here comes the gentleman.
[Turio may exit]
[Enter Proteus]
VALENTINE Welcome, dear Proteus! Mistress, I beseech you,
Confirm his welcome with some special favour.
SILVIA His worth is warrant99 for his welcome hither,
If this be he you oft have wished to hear from.
VALENTINE Mistress, it is: sweet lady, entertain101 him
To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship.
SILVIA Too low a mistress for so high103 a servant.
PROTEUS Not so, sweet lady: but too mean104 a servant
To have a look of such a worthy mistress.
VALENTINE Leave off discourse of disability:106
Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant.
PROTEUS My duty108 will I boast of, nothing else.
SILVIA And duty never yet did want his meed.109
Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress.
PROTEUS I’ll die on him that says so but111 yourself.
SILVIA That you are welcome?
PROTEUS That you are worthless.
[Enter Turio, or a servant enters and whispers to Turio]
TURIO Madam, my lord your father would speak with you.
SILVIA I wait upon his pleasure. Come, Sir Turio,
Go with me. Once more, new servant, welcome.
I’ll leave you to confer of home affairs:
When you have done, we look to hear from you.
PROTEUS We’ll both attend upon your ladyship.
[Exeunt Silvia and Turio]
VALENTINE Now, tell me: how do all from whence you came?
PROTEUS Your friends are well and have them much commended.121
VALENTINE And how do yours?
PROTEUS I left them all in health.
VALENTINE How does your lady? And how thrives your love?
PROTEUS My tales of love were wont to125 weary you:
I know you joy not in a love discourse.
VALENTINE Ay, Proteus, but that life is altered now.
I have done penance for contemning128 Love,
Whose high imperious129 thoughts have punished me
With bitter fasts, with penitential130 groans,
With nightly tears and daily heart-sore sighs:
For in revenge of my contempt of love,
Love hath chased sleep from my enthrallèd133 eyes,
And made them watchers of134 mine own heart’s sorrow.
O gentle Proteus, Love’s a mighty lord,
And hath so humbled me, as I confess,
There is no woe to his correction,137
Nor to138 his service no such joy on earth.
Now no discourse, except it be of love:
Now can I break my fast, dine, sup and sleep
Upon the very naked141 name of love.
PROTEUS Enough: I read your fortune in your eye.
Was this143 the idol that you worship so?
VALENTINE Even she144; and is she not a heavenly saint?
PROTEUS No, but she is an earthly paragon.145
VALENTINE Call her divine.
PROTEUS I will not flatter her.
VALENTINE O, flatter me, for love delights in praises.
PROTEUS When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills,149
And I must minister the like150 to you.
VALENTINE Then speak the truth by151 her; if not divine,
Yet let her be a principality,152
Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth.
PROTEUS Except my mistress.
VALENTINE Sweet155, except not any,
Except thou wilt except against156 my love.
PROTEUS Have I not reason to prefer mine own?
VALENTINE And I will help thee to prefer158 her too:
She shall be dignified with this high honour,
To bear my lady’s train, lest the base earth
Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss,161
And of so great a favour growing proud,
Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower163
And make rough winter everlastingly.
PROTEUS Why, Valentine, what braggardism165 is this?
VALENTINE Pardon me, Proteus: all I can166 is nothing
To her whose worth makes other worthies167 nothing.
She is alone.168
PROTEUS Then let her alone.
VALENTINE Not for the world: why, man, she is mine own,
And I as rich in having such a jewel
As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl,
The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.
Forgive me that I do not dream on thee,174
Because thou see’st me dote upon175 my love.
My foolish rival, that her father likes—
Only for177 his possessions are so huge—
Is gone with her along, and I must after:
For love, thou know’st, is full of jealousy.
PROTEUS But she loves you?
VALENTINE Ay, and we are betrothed: nay, more, our marriage-hour,
With all the cunning manner of our flight,182
Determined of183: how I must climb her window,
The ladder made of cords, and all the means
Plotted and ’greed185 on for my happiness.
Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber,
In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel.
PROTEUS Go on before: I shall inquire you forth.188
I must unto the road, to disembark189
Some necessaries190 that I needs must use,
And then I’ll presently attend you.
VALENTINE Will you make haste?
PROTEUS I will.
Exit [Valentine]
Even as one heat another heat expels,194
Or as one nail by strength drives out another,
So the remembrance196 of my former love
Is by a newer object197 quite forgotten.
Is it mine eye or Valentine’s praise?
Her true perfection or my false transgression199
That makes me reasonless to reason thus?200
She is fair: and so is Julia that I love—
That I did love, for now my love is thawed,
Which, like a waxen image gainst a fire
Bears no impression of the thing it was.
Methinks my zeal205 to Valentine is cold,
And that I love him not as I was wont.
O, but I love his lady too too much,
And that’s the reason I love him so little.
How shall I dote on her with more advice,209
That thus without advice210 begin to love her?
’Tis but her picture211 I have yet beheld,
And that hath dazzlèd my reason’s light:
But when I look on her perfections,213
There is no reason but214 I shall be blind.
If I can check my erring215 love, I will:
If not, to compass216 her I’ll use my skill.
Exit
Act 2 Scene 5
running scene 8
Enter Speed and Lance [separately. Lance with his dog, Crab]
SPEED Lance, by mine honesty, welcome to Padua.1
LANCE Forswear2 not thyself, sweet youth, for I am not
welcome. I reckon this always, that a man is never undone3
till he be hanged, nor never welcome to a place till some
certain shot be paid and the hostess5 say ‘Welcome!’
SPEED Come on, you madcap: I’ll to the ale-house with you
presently, where, for one shot of five pence, thou shalt have
five thousand welcomes. But, sirrah, how did thy master part
with Madam Julia?
LANCE Marry, after they closed in earnest10, they parted very
fairly11 in jest.
SPEED But shall she marry him?
LANCE No.
SPEED How then? Shall he marry her?
LANCE No, neither.
SPEED What, are they broken?16
LANCE No, they are both as whole as a fish.17
SPEED Why then, how stands the matter18 with them?
LANCE Marry, thus: when it stands well with him, it stands
well with her.
SPEED What an ass art thou! I understand thee not.
LANCE What a block22 art thou, that thou canst not! My staff
understands23 me.
SPEED What thou say’st?
LANCE Ay, and what I do too: look thee, I’ll but lean, and
my staff under-stands me.
SPEED It stands under thee, indeed.
LANCE Why, stand-under and under-stand is all one.
SPEED But tell me true, will’t be a match?
LANCE Ask my dog: if he say ‘ay’, it will. If he say ‘no’, it
will. If he shake his tail and say nothing, it will.
SPEED The conclusion is, then, that it will.
LANCE Thou shalt never get such a secret from me but by a
parable.34
SPEED ’Tis well that I get it so. But Lance, how say’st thou35
that my master is become a notable36 lover?
LANCE I never knew him otherwise.
SPEED Than how?
LANCE A notable lubber39, as thou reportest him to be.
SPEED Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mistak’st me.40
LANCE Why, fool, I meant not thee, I meant thy master.
SPEED I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover.
LANCE Why, I tell thee, I care not though he burn himself
in love. If thou wilt, go with me to the alehouse: if not, thou
art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a Christian.
SPEED Why?
LANCE Because thou hast not so much charity in thee as to
go to the ale48 with a Christian. Wilt thou go?
SPEED At thy service.
Exeunt
Act 2 Scene 6
running scene 9
Enter Proteus alone
PROTEUS To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn?
To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn?
To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn.
And ev’n that power which gave me first my oath4
Provokes me to this threefold perjury.
Love bade me swear, and Love bids me forswear;
O sweet-suggesting Love, if thou hast sinned,7
Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it.
At first I did adore a twinkling star,
But now I worship a celestial sun.
Unheedful vows may heedfully11 be broken,
And he wants wit12 that wants resolvèd will
To learn13 his wit t’exchange the bad for better.
Fie, fie, unreverend tongue, to call her14 bad,
Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferred15
With twenty thousand soul-confirming16 oaths.
I cannot leave17 to love, and yet I do:
But there I leave to love where I should love.
Julia I lose, and Valentine I lose:
If I keep them, I needs must lose myself.
If I lose them, thus find I21 by their loss:
For22 Valentine, myself, for Julia, Silvia.
I to myself am dearer than a friend,
For love is still most precious in itself,
And Silvia — witness heaven that made her fair25—
Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.26
I will forget that Julia is alive,
Remembering that my love to her is dead.
And Valentine I’ll hold29 an enemy,
Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend.
I cannot now prove constant31 to myself,
Without some treachery used to Valentine.
This night he meaneth with a corded33 ladder
To climb celestial Silvia’s chamber-window,
Myself in counsel his competitor.35
Now presently I’ll give her father notice
Of their disguising and pretended flight,37
Who, all enraged, will banish Valentine,
For Turio he intends shall wed his daughter.
But Valentine being gone, I’ll quickly cross,40
By some sly trick, blunt41 Turio’s dull proceeding.
Love, lend42 me wings to make my purpose swift,
As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift.43
Exit
running scene 10
Enter Julia and Lucetta
JULIA Counsel, Lucetta: gentle girl, assist me,
And ev’n in kind love, I do conjure2 thee,
Who art the table3 wherein all my thoughts
Are visibly charactered4 and engraved,
To lesson me and tell me some good mean5
How with my honour I may undertake
A journey to my loving Proteus.
LUCETTA Alas, the way is wearisome and long.
JULIA A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary
To measure10 kingdoms with his feeble steps:
Much less shall she that hath Love’s wings to fly,
And when the flight is made to one so dear,
Of such divine perfection as Sir Proteus.
LUCETTA Better forbear14 till Proteus make return.
JULIA O, know’st thou not his looks are my soul’s food?
Pity the dearth16 that I have pined in,
By longing for that food so long a time.
Didst thou but know the inly18 touch of love,
Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow
As seek to quench the fire of love with words.
LUCETTA I do not seek to quench your love’s hot fire,
But qualify22 the fire’s extreme rage,
Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.
JULIA The more thou damm’st it up, the more it burns.
The current25 that with gentle murmur glides,
Thou know’st, being stopped, impatiently doth rage:
But when his fair course is not hinderèd,
He makes sweet music with th’enamelled stones,28
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge29
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage,
And so by many winding nooks he strays
With willing sport to the wild32 ocean.
Then let me go, and hinder not my course:
I’ll be as patient as a gentle stream,
And make a pastime of each weary step,
Till the last step have brought me to my love,
And there I’ll rest, as after much turmoil
A blessèd soul doth in Elysium.38
LUCETTA But in what habit39 will you go along?
JULIA Not like a woman, for I would prevent40
The loose encounters of lascivious men:
Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds42
As may beseem43 some well-reputed page.
LUCETTA Why then, your ladyship must cut your hair.
JULIA No, girl, I’ll knit45 it up in silken strings
With twenty odd-conceited46 true-love knots.
To be fantastic47 may become a youth
Of greater time48 than I shall show to be.
LUCETTA What fashion, madam, shall I make your breeches?
JULIA That fits as well as ‘Tell me, good my lord,
What compass will you wear your farthingale?51’
Why, ev’n what fashion thou best likes, Lucetta.
LUCETTA You must needs have them with a codpiece53, madam.
JULIA Out, out, Lucetta! That will be ill-favoured.54
LUCETTA A round hose, madam, now’s not worth a pin55
Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on.56
JULIA Lucetta, as thou lov’st me, let me have
What thou think’st meet and is most mannerly.58
But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me
For undertaking so unstaid60 a journey?
I fear me it will make me scandalized.61
LUCETTA If you think so, then stay at home and go not.
JULIA Nay, that I will not.
LUCETTA Then never dream on infamy64, but go.
If Proteus like your journey when you come,
No matter who’s displeased when you are gone:
I fear me he will scarce be pleased withal.67
JULIA That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear:
A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears,
And instances of infinite70 of love
Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.71
LUCETTA All these are servants to deceitful men.
JULIA Base men, that use them to so base effect.
But truer stars did govern Proteus’ birth:
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles,75
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate,76
His tears pure messengers sent from his heart,
His heart, as far from fraud as heaven from earth.
LUCETTA Pray heav’n he prove so when you come to him.
JULIA Now, as thou lov’st me, do him not that wrong
To bear a hard opinion of his truth81:
Only deserve my love by loving him,
And presently go with me to my chamber
To take a note of what I stand in need of,
To furnish me upon my longing journey.85
All that is mine I leave at thy dispose,86
My goods, my lands, my reputation:
Only, in lieu thereof88, dispatch me hence.
Come, answer not, but to it presently.
I am impatient of my tarriance.90
Exeunt
running scene 11
Enter Duke, Turio [and] Proteus
DUKE Sir Turio, give us leave1, I pray, awhile:
We have some secrets to confer about.
[Exit Turio]
Now, tell me, Proteus, what’s your will with me?
PROTEUS My gracious lord, that which I would discover
The law of friendship bids me to conceal,
But when I call to mind your gracious favours
Done to me — undeserving as I am—
My duty pricks8 me on to utter that
Which else no worldly good should draw from me.
Know, worthy prince, Sir Valentine my friend
This night intends to steal away your daughter:
Myself am one made privy to12 the plot.
I know you have determined to bestow her
On Turio, whom your gentle daughter hates,
And should she thus be stol’n away from you,
It would be much vexation16 to your age.
Thus, for my duty’s sake, I rather chose
To cross my friend in his intended drift,
Than, by concealing it, heap on your head
A pack of sorrows which would press you down,
Being unprevented, to your timeless21 grave.
DUKE Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care,
Which to requite, command me23 while I live.
This love of theirs myself have often seen,
Haply when they have judged me fast asleep,
And oftentimes have purposed26 to forbid
Sir Valentine her company and my court.
But fearing lest my jealous aim28 might err
And so unworthily disgrace the man—
A rashness that I ever yet have shunned—
I gave him gentle looks, thereby to find31
That which thyself hast now disclosed to me.
And that thou mayst perceive my fear of this,
Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested,34
I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,
The key whereof myself have ever kept:
And thence she cannot be conveyed away.
PROTEUS Know, noble lord, they have devised a mean
How he her chamber-window will ascend,
And with a corded ladder fetch her down:
For which, the youthful lover now is gone,
And this way comes he with it presently,
Where, if it please you, you may intercept him.
But, good my lord, do it so cunningly
That my discovery be not aimed at:45
For love of you, not hate unto my friend,
Hath made me publisher of this pretence.47
DUKE Upon mine honour, he shall never know
That I had any light49 from thee of this.
PROTEUS Adieu, my lord: Sir Valentine is coming.
[Exit Proteus]
[Enter Valentine]
DUKE Sir Valentine, whither away51 so fast?
VALENTINE Please it your grace, there is a messenger
That stays to bear my letters to my friends,
And I am going to deliver them.
DUKE Be they of much import?
VALENTINE The tenor56 of them doth but signify
My health and happy being at your court.
DUKE Nay then, no matter. Stay with me awhile:
I am to break59 with thee of some affairs
That touch me near60, wherein thou must be secret.
’Tis not unknown to thee that I have sought
To match my friend Sir Turio to my daughter.
VALENTINE I know it well, my lord, and sure the match
Were rich and honourable: besides, the gentleman
Is full of virtue, bounty65, worth and qualities
Beseeming66 such a wife as your fair daughter.
Cannot your grace win her to fancy him?
DUKE No, trust me, she is peevish, sullen, froward,68
Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty,
Neither regarding70 that she is my child
Nor fearing me as if I were71 her father.
And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers,
Upon advice73, hath drawn my love from her,
And, where I thought the remnant of mine age74
Should have been cherished by her child-like duty,
I now am full resolved to take a wife
And turn her out to who77 will take her in:
Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower,78
For me and my possessions she esteems79 not.
VALENTINE What would your grace have me to do in this?
DUKE There is a lady in Verona here
Whom I affect: but she is nice82 and coy,
And nought esteems my agèd eloquence.83
Now therefore would I have thee to my tutor—
For long agone I have forgot to court,85
Besides, the fashion of the time is changed—
How and which way I may bestow myself87
To be regarded88 in her sun-bright eye.
VALENTINE Win her with gifts, if she respect not words:
Dumb jewels often in their silent kind90
More than quick91 words do move a woman’s mind.
DUKE But she did scorn a present that I sent her.
VALENTINE A woman sometime scorns what best contents her.
Send her another: never give her o’er,94
For scorn at first makes after-love the more.95
If she do frown, ’tis not in hate of you,
But rather to beget97 more love in you.
If she do chide, ’tis not to have you gone,
Forwhy,99 the fools are mad, if left alone.
Take no repulse, whatever she doth say,
For101 ‘get you gone’, she doth not mean ‘away!’
Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces:102
Though ne’er so black103, say they have angels’ faces.
That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man
If with his tongue105 he cannot win a woman.
DUKE But she I mean is promised by her friends106
Unto a youthful gentleman of worth,
And kept severely from resort of men,
That109 no man hath access by day to her.
VALENTINE Why then I would resort to her by night.
DUKE Ay, but the doors be locked and keys kept safe,
That no man hath recourse to her by night.
VALENTINE What lets113 but one may enter at her window?
DUKE Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground,
And built so shelving115 that one cannot climb it
Without apparent hazard of his life.
VALENTINE Why then, a ladder quaintly117 made of cords
To cast up, with a pair of anchoring hooks,118
Would serve to scale another Hero’s tower,119
So120 bold Leander would adventure it.
DUKE Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood,121
Advise me where I may have such a ladder.
VALENTINE When would you use it? Pray, sir, tell me that.
DUKE This very night; for Love is like a child
That longs for everything that he can come by.
VALENTINE By seven o’clock I’ll get you such a ladder.
DUKE But, hark thee: I will go to her alone.
How shall I best convey the ladder thither?
VALENTINE It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it
Under a cloak that is of any length.130
DUKE A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn?131
VALENTINE Ay, my good lord.
DUKE Then let me see thy cloak:
I’ll get me one of such another134 length.
VALENTINE Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord.
DUKE How shall I fashion me136 to wear a cloak?
I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me.
Takes Valentine’s cloak and discovers a letter and a rope ladder concealed under it
What letter is this same?138 What’s here? ‘To Silvia’!
And here an engine fit for my proceeding.139
I’ll be so bold to break the seal for once.
Reads
‘My thoughts do harbour141 with my Silvia nightly,
And slaves they are to me that send them flying.
O, could their master come and go as lightly,143
Himself would lodge where, senseless, they are lying.144
My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them,145
While I, their king, that thither them importune,146
Do curse the grace that with such grace147 hath blessed them,
Because myself do want my servants148’ fortune.
I curse myself, for they are sent by me,
That they should harbour where their lord should be.’
What’s here?
‘Silvia, this night I will enfranchise152 thee.’
’Tis so: and here’s the ladder for the purpose.
Why, Phaeton — for thou art Merops’ son154—
Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car,
And with thy daring folly burn the world?
Wilt thou reach stars because they shine on thee?
Go, base intruder, overweening slave,158
Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates,159
And think my patience, more than thy desert,160
Is privilege for thy departure hence.
Thank me for this more than for all the favours
Which, all too much, I have bestowed on thee.
But if thou linger in my territories
Longer than swiftest expedition165
Will give thee time to leave our royal court,
By heaven, my wrath shall far exceed the love
I ever bore my daughter or thyself.
Be gone! I will not hear thy vain excuse,
But as thou lov’st thy life, make speed from hence.
[Exit]
VALENTINE And why not death, rather than living torment?
To die is to be banished from myself,
And Silvia is myself: banished from her
Is self from self. A deadly banishment:
What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?176
Unless it be to think that she is by
And feed upon the shadow178 of perfection.
Except179 I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no music in the nightingale.
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon.
She is my essence, and I leave to be183
If I be not by her fair influence184
Fostered, illumined185, cherished, kept alive.
I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:186
Tarry I here, I but attend on187 death,
But fly I hence, I fly away from life.
[Enter Proteus and Lance]
PROTEUS Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.
LANCE So-ho190, so-ho!
PROTEUS What see’st thou?
LANCE Him we go to find: there’s not a hair192 on’s head but
’tis a Valentine.193
PROTEUS Valentine?
VALENTINE No.
PROTEUS Who then? His spirit?196
VALENTINE Neither.
PROTEUS What then?
VALENTINE Nothing.
LANCE Can nothing speak? Master, shall I strike?
PROTEUS Who wouldst thou strike?
LANCE Nothing.
PROTEUS Villain203, forbear.
LANCE Why, sir, I’ll strike nothing.204 I pray you—
PROTEUS Sirrah, I say forbear. Friend Valentine, a word.
VALENTINE My ears are stopped206 and cannot hear good news,
So much of bad already hath possessed them.
PROTEUS Then in dumb silence will I bury mine,208
For they are harsh, untuneable and bad.
VALENTINE Is Silvia dead?
PROTEUS No, Valentine.
VALENTINE No Valentine212 indeed, for sacred Silvia.
Hath she forsworn213 me?
PROTEUS No, Valentine.
VALENTINE No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me.
What is your news?
LANCE Sir, there is a proclamation that you are vanished.217
PROTEUS That thou art banished — O, that’s the news—
From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend.
VALENTINE O, I have fed upon this woe already,
And now excess of it will make me surfeit.221
Doth Silvia know that I am banishèd?
PROTEUS Ay, ay: and she hath offered to the doom—223
Which unreversed stands in effectual force—
A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears:
Those at her father’s churlish feet she tendered,226
With them, upon her knees, her humble self,
Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became228 them
As if but now they waxèd229 pale for woe.
But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears
Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire;232
But Valentine, if he be ta’en, must die.
Besides, her intercession chafed234 him so,
When she for thy repeal was suppliant,235
That to close236 prison he commanded her,
With many bitter threats of biding237 there.
VALENTINE No more, unless the next word that thou speak’st
Have some malignant239 power upon my life:
If so, I pray thee breathe it in mine ear,
As ending anthem of my endless dolour.241
PROTEUS Cease to lament for that thou canst not help,
And study243 help for that which thou lament’st:
Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.
Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love:
Besides, thy staying will abridge246 thy life.
Hope is a lover’s staff: walk hence with that
And manage248 it against despairing thoughts.
Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence,
Which, being writ to me, shall be delivered
Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love.251
The time now serves not to expostulate:252
Come, I’ll convey thee through the city-gate,
And ere I part with thee, confer at large254
Of all that may concern thy love-affairs.
As thou lov’st Silvia, though not for thyself,256
Regard257 thy danger, and along with me.
VALENTINE I pray thee, Lance, an if thou see’st my boy,258
Bid him make haste and meet me at the North-gate.
PROTEUS Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine.
VALENTINE O, my dear Silvia! Hapless Valentine!
[Exeunt Valentine and Proteus]
LANCE I am but a fool, look you, and yet I have the wit to
think my master is a kind of a knave: but that’s all one, if he263
be but one knave. He lives not now that264 knows me to be in
love, yet I am in love, but a team of horse265 shall not pluck that
from me, nor who ’tis I love: and yet ’tis a woman, but what
woman, I will not tell myself: and yet ’tis a milkmaid, yet
’tis not a maid, for she hath had gossips: yet ’tis a maid268, for
she is her master’s maid, and serves269 for wages. She hath
more qualities than a water-spaniel270, which is much in a
Pulls out a paper
bare Christian. Here is the cate-log of her condition.271
‘Imprimis:272 She can fetch and carry.’ Why, a horse can
do no more; nay, a horse cannot fetch273, but only carry,
therefore is she better than a jade.
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